Hard Habit to Break
by Ambitious Endeavours
Summary: A summer can give someone the chance to correct past mistakes... or to create new ones. A modern spin on a classic love story. Rated T for some swearing and OOC-ness.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Persuasion and all of it's characters and story lines belong to the lovely Ms. Jane Austen.

This has been swimming around in my head for weeks, so I've decided to bite the bullet and just get it out. Hopefully this version of Persuasion will stand out from the others that are floating around :)

It is un-Beta'd so I apologise if there are any mistakes.

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As a kid I used to believe in true romance. I know what you're thinking, 'Big deal Anne, most young girls do.' I was in a whole different class of my own; I really took it to the extreme. Princess games? Check. Actively assessing the boys in my class for compatibility? Check. Comparing any male who showed any interest in me against the lead characters in stories and movies? You better believe I did. Wow, I kind of sound like an Alex Forrest in the making, but I wasn't really that... crazy. I just truly believed with all of my heart that somewhere out there was my 'Prince Charming' and that one day, after some trials and tribulations we would ride off into the sunset together and have our happily ever after. It's embarrassing to say, but that starry-eyed romanticism lasted right up until I was 20.

I think a lot of this fairytale day-dreaming was influenced by my mother. Eleanor Elliot was a woman who was known amongst her friends for being a level-headed, sensible woman but at heart she was a true romantic. She was forever reading books or watching movies that ended with the heroine getting her dream man and presumably living the rest of her life happy and loved. I think she was so attracted to these kinds of books and movies because her own life was somewhat of a disappointment when it came to love. Don't get me wrong, my mother loved my father, and he loved her, but Walter Elliot was not the great man she had spent her youth dreaming of.

My father is in no way a bad person. He's always been kind and courteous, he doesn't drink excessively or gamble and to think him violent is just ridiculous – like seriously ridiculous, but like everyone else on the planet he is flawed. To say he can be vain, superficial and materialistic is an understatement (a big one) and while he holds the illusion of being knowledgeable on many topics, questioning him about them reveals that the well of information isn't all that deep. So while Mum did love him and accepted him for who he was, it wasn't that all consuming love she so desperately sought.

Some of my fondest memories of my mother are of her, me and my sisters all cuddled up in her bed on cold days watching movies like 'Dirty Dancing', 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof' and my personal favourite, 'Sleepless in Seattle'. Whatever, don't judge me. No matter how many times she had seen them, Mum's eyes would fill with tears whenever it seemed like things weren't going well for the young lovers on screen, even though she knew that everything would work out in the end. After the movie she would turn to us and say "Girls, I want you to promise me that you won't settle for second best. That you'll wait for the man who is your true love and once you've found him, hold on and never let go. You only get the one you know, so don't let him get away." We always promised, even Mary and she was too young to even understand what Mum was talking about.

Ultimately though, it was a promise I broke. Five years after my mother had passed away and just when I was starting to think that there was no 'special someone' out there for me, Rick Wentworth made his debut in my life. We met on the first day of a class we were both taking at college and what followed was a pretty intense, but relatively short, love affair. Rick was the one true love my mother had told me to hold on to, but instead I watched him walk right out of my life. I barely even tried to stop him from doing it.

Why? Because I am, to put it bluntly, a fucking idiot. Seriously. And now here I am four years later still alone and unloved. I've done some growing up over the years though and have come to the realisation that fairytales are full of shit. I know, shocker, right? There is no perfect man, no happily ever after. There's just a bunch of lonely people wandering around and some 'higher power' that keeps screwing us over. Well, that's my opinion on the subject anyway but I frequently get told that I'm a cynic. I prefer to think of myself as a realist.

Being the pessimist in the group is no fun so I'm trying to get out of this funk I'm in, really I am. But rebuilding your heart after it was ripped out and crushed takes time. Apparently, it takes a _lot_ of time. I'd like to think I'm getting there though, wherever 'there' is. I know Mum would be pretty upset with me if she were alive to see what a gloomy dipshit her middle daughter had grown up to be. My only consolation is that I'm not the only person in my family she'd be upset with.

Whenever I let myself think about how everything has turned out, I always long for those days of my youth, when I thought I had the whole world in front of me and I couldn't wait to fall in love. I wish I could escape and go back in time to an age where I didn't realise that not all stories have happy endings.

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Well, posting this is scary. Please let me know if you think it's worth me continuing, encouragement is a great motivator!


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Persuasion and all of it's characters and story lines belong to the lovely Ms. Jane Austen.

A/N: I was going to wait and see what the response was before deciding to whether or not to continue and post this chapter, but then I figured 'Eh, what the hell, it's already done.' Once again, this is un-beta'd so I apologise for any mistakes I have made.

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There are some mornings where you wake up and just know that today's going to be a bad day. You usually just want to go back to bed and sleep the day away, but your sense of duty or whatever gets in the way so you get up, steel yourself for whatever's going to happen and try to go about your day as usual. Well take my advice, follow your gut instinct instead and just go back to bed. I wish I had and if I did, I would probably still have a job right now.

I woke up this morning with that feeling of dread, but like so many other people out there I just pushed it away. Idiot. As I got ready for work, it became clear that today was going to be a really, _really_ crappy day. My alarm clock had died, so I had slept late. Then there was no hot water when I went to shower, because the water heater hadn't been fixed the day before like my landlord had promised it would be. _Well_, I thought as my piece-of-shit car wouldn't start, _at least it isn't raining_. Annnnd cue the thunder clap and heavy downpour. Just kidding.

My day only got worse anyway. Later in the afternoon I was sitting in the lunch room with a group of people from the sales office I've been temping at, and we were chatting about some of the people we work with. After a while the talk turned to people's opinions of the manager, Peter. This morning I'd had a bit of a run in with him because I was running late and he totally over reacted about it. I absolutely hate conflict, so I just sat there listening to him yelling at me while willing myself not to cry and then spent the rest of the morning seething about his lack of empathy and general dickish behaviour.

Fun fact about me: I may hate conflict, but I have absolutely no problem bitching about people who are assholes to me. Keeping in line with that, I took the opportunity of the office gossip session to share my opinion about what a jackass I thought Peter had been earlier in the day. Unfortunately for me, sometime during _my_ rant (naturally) he had walked into the room unseen by yours truly. Which, now that I think about it, kind of explains the 'shut up now you idiot!' looks I was getting from the others.

I suppose you could say that I shouldn't have been talking shit about the manager in the workplace, but_ I_ say he shouldn't have been listening into my private conversation. Didn't his parents ever teach him that eavesdropping is rude? So I was in the right. Ok fine, it was a stupid and unprofessional thing for me to do and that's exactly how the temp agency saw it too. They let me go with a "Sorry, but we require employees with an exceptionally high state of professionalism."

I can totally be professional. In fact, I usually am. But this morning I woke up only to realise that I was once again setting off to do mindless office work. As a temp. This left me in a foul mood because being reminded of the fact that I graduated from college two and a half years ago and still haven't been able to find decent full time work, sucks. The fact that it's my own fault for choosing an ambiguous major like English really pisses me off.

Usually I deal with my anger better, I just bottle it up like most normal people but today I acted like an idiot and verbally attacked someone whose opinion actually matters to my bosses. And then the realisation hits me. _Oh God, I just got fired from being a temp. A fucking temp! Now what am I going to do?_ Maybe I should have tried claiming it was PMS and them firing me because of it is sexist... nah that would never have worked.

Sighing as I unlock my front door I prepare myself for a night of fixing up my resume and searching for work. I look around at my apartment; it's small and a bit rundown with outdated wallpaper that has definitely seen better days. But at least the 70's style matches the old second-hand furniture I had rescued from various junk shops. It may not be up to the standard of people from my old life in New York, but it was warm and cosy and all mine. In my bid for independence from my family I'd had to go without some luxuries, but I don't mind. It's worth it to know that I've managed to shake off the stereotype of being a trust fund baby. Although right now I'm glad I didn't cut up the credit card Dad gave me when I moved out. I would need it until I managed to find another job.

I throw my handbag down onto the side table next to the front door and notice the red light beeping on my answering machine. _Ugh, it's probably just Dianna trying to talk me into moving back to New York. Again. _Not in the mood to deal with my pushy God-mother, I go into my tiny ensuite bathroom and test out the hot water, hoping it's back on which I find, to my relief, that it is. _Finally, something that's gone right today_. Hoping the hot water can magically fix all my problems I decide to have a nice, long, hot shower.

Well the shower didn't cure me of my unemployment or make Matthew McConaughey fall in love with me, but it did succeed in making me feeling more relaxed about everything. I potter around for a while catching up on some housework and go to work on making myself dinner (lasagne – my comfort meal). It's not until I got to take my mobile out of my bag so I can charge it, that I remember someone had left a message on my landline. After pressing play I hear a voice that makes me doubt that my shitty day has taken a turn for the better.

"Anne, it's your father, Walter Elliot." Rolling my eyes I wonder for the millionth time why he always feels the need to add his name to the end of that statement. I mean really, how many fathers does he think I have? My finger is hovering over the delete button, ready to press it if Dad says anything about a social function I 'need' to attend. What I hear next however, stops me cold. "I need you to call me back as soon as you get this, I'm afraid I have some terrible news I need to tell you."

For a moment all I can picture is one awful scene after another. Elizabeth lying dead in a morgue. The family home in flames. Dad finding out he's terminally ill. Yes, I have a flare for the dramatic. The moment passes however, when I remember who it is that called me. Last time Dad called because some disaster had befallen him, he was talking about the fact that his cosmetic surgeon banned him from having Botox injections for 3 months. Dad was borderline hysterical that he was going to be seen out in public with crow's feet. Feeling more optimistic than I had a minute ago I picked up the phone and called him back.

"Hello, Walter Elliot speaking." Seriously, he must really like the sound of his name.

I got for a much more simple, "Dad, it's Anne."

"Oh Anne, how are you dear? How's life in... um, where is it your living again?"

Typical, the man doesn't even know where I live. "Providence, Dad." I take the cordless phone over to the couch and start flicking through the T.V channels. I doubt I'll need to give this conversation my full attention.

Chuckling he continues, "Ah yes, Providence. So how is life in Providence?"

"It's good." No need to let him know I'd just been fired. Looking up at the clock I realise that I don't have time to make small talk. Vampire Diaries is going to be on in a few minutes so I want to make this as quick as possible. "What's this bad news you have to tell me?"

"Oh, yes of course. It's not just bad news Anne; it's the worst kind of news."  
In a dramatic voice he goes on to add, "This is something that will affect everybody's' life."

Flashes of the scenes I envisioned earlier go through my mind again, making the panic from before flare up slightly. "What is it? Is everyone alright?"

"Well if you mean physically, than yes we're all fine. But our spirits have certainly taken a real downturn!"

He's calling me because he's feeling down in the dumps? That's actually quite sweet, but I'm the wrong person for him to call right now if he wants cheering up. "Look Dad, I'm kind of busy, so can you just tell me what the problem is?" Hopefully my lack of tact won't make him feel worse.

"Yes, I certainly imagine you will be busy over the next couple of weeks," I can picture him nodding as he says that, "what with the move and all. "

_What the hell?_ "I'm sorry, what? What move?"

For a second there I seriously thought that he had somehow found out I had lost my job and was assuming I'm just going to move back home to New York. _Nuh uh, so not going to happen._ But that's a ridiculous thought, how the hell would he have found out anyway?

As I wait for him to answer me, I can tell he's trying to stall by clearing his throat half a dozen times. "Well you see, the news I had to tell you is... that..." He lets out one of his nervous chuckles "God, it's embarrassing to admit to even my own family members."

I officially lose all patience. "Out with it Dad."

I swear I hear him mumble "I should have had Elizabeth call you" before he takes a deep breath and finally gets to the point. "Alright, the fact of the matter is that we've run into a spot of trouble... financially."

I hear the words, but for some reason they don't seem to make sense to me, so I ask for some clarity. "We've... what?"

Another deep breath comes from Dad. "We're joining the masses of the non-wealthy."

Is non-wealthy even a word? Probably not, but that's not the point. _Focus Anne!_ Is he saying... what I think he's saying? Oh God, I think my brain must be broken because all that comes out of my mouth is, "What?"

Over the phone I hear an angry huff. "Are you being deliberately obtuse? We're broke, Anne. Poor! There's no money left!"

Yeap, that's what I thought he was getting at. "I... What... how did this happen?" Ugh, I can barely string together a sentence. I guess that's what shock does to you and I am _definitely_ in shock right now. Not because I greatly care about the money (even though it looks like I will be moving back home after all, God damn it!), but I never thought I would live to see it run out. That doesn't just happen, right?

"I'm not too sure; I was too busy having an emotional breakdown to hear the explanation the account was giving. Not to mention that I find his mono-brow quite distracting, I keep trying to think of ways to politely suggest getting it waxed, but they never seem to fit into the conversation." The pause that follows is probably a result of my father trying to imagine different scenarios in which he can give his 'friendly advice'.

Trust him to think of something like that at a time like this. "Dad, focus."

He hums before seemingly rejoining us down here on Planet Earth. "What? Oh, yes. So now with everything that's going on, I'm afraid you're going to have to give up the lease on your apartment and move back home, unless whatever job it is that you have pays you well enough to cover all your expenses. I'm afraid the family accounts can't help with your bills and whatnot anymore."

_Well fuck._

"Anne Emily Elliot!" Oops, I must have said that out loud. "While I do admit that the sentiment you just expressed is one that I share in regards to our current situation, it is not becoming of a young woman of your pedigree to state it in such a way!" Jesus Christ, I'm 24 years old and still getting in trouble off my dad for swearing.

"Sorry Dad. I guess I'm still in shock." Quickly trying to change the subject, I ask a question I'm dreading the answer to. "How long until I have to move back?"

He contemplates the answer for a minute or two. "The sooner the better, I'm afraid."

Less than a week later I pull into the apartment complex that had been our home for the last eight years with a car full of my stuff. _Well this sucks_.

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A/N: There you have it! If you like how this is going, please let me know so I know it's worthwhile me continuing.

Also, I just want to say that I'm Australian so sorry if some of the phrases or names for things (like mobile instead of cell phone) I use are confusing.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Persuasion and all of it's characters and story lines belong to the lovely Ms. Jane Austen.

**A/N:** Hello again, I've finally finished off this chapter (obviously) for anyone who maybe have been waiting. It's not my favourite, in fact I find it rather boring but it does give a lot of back story, or something, I guess.

Once again, I apologise if there are any mistakes cos I still haven't found a beta. I'm too chicken to actually show this to anyone for fear they'll tear it apart. I know, I know, I need to suck it up.

Anyway, enjoy!

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It took me all of two hours to miss my cramped little flat. That's got to be some kind of record, but I think that with a family like mine no one could blame me. In most normal families the returning child would be greeted with warm hellos and hugs, not for me though. My homecoming consisted of me knocking on the front door for what felt like forever before my sister finally opened it with a snide "Oh, it's you. About time you showed up." I followed her through to lounge room, stupidly expecting some sign that Elizabeth was glad to see me. What happened instead was her flopping onto the modern leather couch, picking up some trashy tabloid magazine and losing herself in the world of love and heartbreak of the celebrities. _Nice to see you too, Liz_.

Figuring that was all I was going to get out of Elizabeth for now, I went to go put my things away in my old room, only to find someone was already settled in it – Elizabeth's latest BFF, Penelope "Oh please, just call me Penny!" Clay. It turns out I had been relegated to the pull out in the study instead. Awesome. To top it all off, Dad wasn't even there to welcome me back; apparently having lunch with friends he sees every week was more important than being there to welcome his daughter home. A daughter, might I add, that he hadn't seen in almost a year. So yeah, I wasn't exactly feeling the love.

Seeing as it had been a while since I was last home, I wondered around the spacious penthouse apartment, curious to see what changes had been made in the last couple of years. We first moved here twelve years ago, not long after Mum died. Our house there was full of too many painful memories for everyone and Dad believed that a change of scenery would help cheer us all up and keep our minds off the past. Well that was one of his reasons but I think the social attractions had a lot of influence on where we moved too. After all, you were more likely to rub elbows with the 'right' people in Manhattan than you were in Boston. The apartment had never felt like home to me and Dad and Elizabeth's constant renovations didn't help. Every few years they'd make changes to the apartment and it's decor to make sure they were up to date with all the latest trends. Whoever they had hired for the last one should never be allowed to work in the industry again – the house looked like a technicolour nightmare full of uncomfortable and expensive contemporary furniture. How much money had they wasted on this? Shaking my head, I realise it's no surprise the family money had dried up.

Later that evening Dad finally decided to make an appearance. Before sitting in the arm chair across from the lounge I'm reading on, he surprises me by kissing me on the cheek (very unusual for him) and pronouncing "Ah Anne, there you are! We're so glad to have you back home."

I highly doubt that, Elizabeth still hadn't deemed me worthy of her attention other than to throw a "Going out. Laters." over her shoulder as she and _Penny_ walked out the front door. Despite that, I give Dad a smile and tell him that it's nice to be back. I'm lying, of course, but it's the expected response and I've always hated to disappoint people.

We make some awkward small talk for a few minutes and I take the opportunity to scrutinise Dad's appearance. He's thankfully given up on dying his hair (it looked ridiculous on a man his age) and I notice that the grey suits him – it makes him look more distinguished. Dad was quite a looker when he was younger, but in his desperate bid to stop the aging process he appears to have lost the ability to move his facial muscles, which seems to take away some of his charm. _God_, I think to myself, _no wonder the doctors stopped the Botox_.

"Oh Anne," he sighs "how on earth are we going to survive?" Over-exaggerate much? It seems like I get my dramatic flair from my father. No surprise there really.

Rolling my eyes I say "Dad, this is hardly the end of the world. There are plenty of people out there who get by without piles of cash."

He looks horrified, as if being compared to everyone is some great slight against him. "But they're all so ordinary! They don't have a reputation like ours to uphold."

"Reputation shmeputation. Who cares what a bunch of boring, empty-headed socialites think?" That was probably the wrong thing to say.

The look of horror is replaced by one of indignation."Me, Anne! I care!" _Yep, definitely the wrong thing to say_. "Reputation is everything and now it appears as though it's the only thing I've got left." Dad looks forlornly at his shoes, as if thinking about everything he's lost.

I can't help but bitterly correct him. "Besides family, you mean." Seriously, is money all this man cares about?

He nods distractedly "Oh yes, yes, besides family of course. And now you're here to help us out. You'll need to meet up with Sheppard sometime soon to sort out what needs to be done to get us out of this mess."

"Haven't you already talked to him about all this?" _For God's sake_, I think, _please don't tell me he's done nothing about this_.

Dad gets up and drifts over to the bookcase, as if he suddenly finds the titles of the books fascinating. "Well yes, we did discuss the situation in some form I believe, but I was so distraught at hearing the news and the man is so studiously boring that I found my attention wandering. No, you're much better suited at dealing with all this than I am." He turns around and looks at me expectantly, as if he assumes I'll immediately comply. Once upon a time I would have, but now I've grown a backbone. A little... kind of. In any case, I'm going to make sure I'm not the only one left to clean up this mess.

"What about Liz? She's the eldest, shouldn't she have to take on some of the responsibility too? It's not fair that I have to be the one to deal with it all."

Looking like he's disappointed in me, Dad shakes his head. "Really Anne, your sister's very busy. She has so many social engagements she needs to attend, not to mention her modelling career is really starting to take off." Ah yes, Elizabeth's questionable modelling career. She certainly has the look for it; she's a tall, leggy blonde (bottled, naturally) who looks like she's never had a 'fat day' in her life. I've seen her photos though and that duck face she pulls is not attractive.

Ignoring my scoff of disbelief, Dad continues. "Besides, you're not dealing with it all by yourself. Dee has very kindly offered us her assistance, she's sorting everything out down at the Boston end."

"The Boston end?" I didn't like the sound of that.

"Yes, she's advised that it might be best to move back to Boston while we're going through this crisis. She's quite right, the embarrassment of it being known that we're financially unstable would be too much to bear. Once things have sorted themselves out we can come back to New York."

As much as I hated the idea and wanted to argue it, I couldn't. Boston was a safer place to live because there wasn't as much for Dad and Elizabeth to blow the remaining money on. Also, Dad didn't need to try so hard with the high and mightys there and Aunt Dee would be able to help keep a close eye on their spending habits.

Begrudgingly I say, "Well that does make sense I suppose."

"Good, I'm glad you can see reason. Dee's already found a four bedroom home for us. Not quite as large or nice as I would have hoped, but I suppose it's adequate enough and will do for now."

"Four bedrooms? Dad, we really only need three."

"Don't be silly dear, we need a room for Penny as well."

Penny? What the fuck? Why the hell is she moving with us? Why is she even living here in the first place?

Before I could voice my questions, Dad had already moved on and was speaking again. "Tomorrow you can meet up with Sheppard and go over all the details of what needs to be done. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for dinner with a certain hotel tycoon and his wife."

Leaving me in utter confusion, he walks out of the room with his usual style and grace. Penelope – sorry, _Penny_ – Clay is the daughter of Mr. Sheppard, the family lawyer, and is in the middle of divorcing her husband who, from what I heard, had run off with a Hooters waitress. She makes a perfect friend for Elizabeth; she's a vain airhead who's only aspiration in life is to be a trophy wife for some millionaire (any one will do).

The next morning I interrupt Elizabeth's make-up routine to pull her aside and ask about her friend's current living situation. Elizabeth gives me one of her famous 'what do you think' looks but it misses its mark a little – the half finished eyebrows make it hard to take her seriously.

"Honestly Anne, why do you think she's here? Ever since you left, I've been pretty lonely. You have _no_ idea. Anyway, I realised that Penny seemed kind of bummed at having to live at home since that bastard left her, and seeing as it was only me and Daddy at home, I thought she could stay with us. She's been a God-send, ever since we found out the horrible news about our money, she's done nothing but try to cheer us up."

I have to say, her answer surprised me. I didn't realise that my absence would affect Elizabeth or that she was capable of doing something nice for someone without expecting something in return, so I let her know. "Wow Liz, that was really nice of you."

Pulling a face at her nickname she ruins the moment by saying, "Yeah well, as it turns out it she's way more fun to hang out with than you ever were anyway." And with that lovely little barb she flounces off to finish getting ready for whatever it is that she does all day.

Mid afternoon I meet up with Mr. Sheppard to discuss the situation our family was now in, what the extent of it was and how on earth we'd be able to try and fix it. He was a smart, straightforward man so I knew that whatever advice he gave me would be worth taking on board. I was also able to get to the bottom of how all that money had disappeared.

"It's quite simple. The majority of the fortune has been lost due a number of factors. The first one being that your father and sister have been relying on the family money instead of gaining paid employment and considering the lifestyle they lead, this has been quite a drain on the family accounts. Other factors include the recession that's hit the economy which has been exacerbated by some, frankly, ridiculous investments made by Mr. Elliot."

None of this was exactly surprising news to me, I just had no idea how out of control Elizabeth and Dad's spending habits were. Now I had to figure out where we go from here. As Mr. Sheppard was the expert, I asked him. "Ok... so what does this mean for us? Are we totally bankrupt?"

Adjusting the glasses on his nose he thinks through his answer. "The family's accounts are greatly depleted, however I do not believe it is necessary to declare bankruptcy. What I would suggest, however, is that you sell off all unnecessary belongings, such as cars, furniture, artwork and so forth and rent out the properties you own to collect some kind of income. It would also be helpful for the members of your family to find employment or I'm afraid what little money is left will run out within a few years and you will have to declare yourselves bankrupt."

For the next hour we come up with an action plan that will reduce our cost of living and bring some money into the accounts. The list of things to do before the big move is intimidating to say the least – meeting with the real estate and potential tenets, deciding which belongings to sell, which staff to let go and the biggest task of all; convincing Dad and Liz that it's all necessary and that there is no way around it. _Lord give me strength_. The fact that Aunt Dee has decided to take it upon herself to 'give her assistance' is only going the whole situation a bigger pain in the ass than it already is. Seriously, the thought of having to listen to her sanctimonious advice makes me want to just drown out the sound of her voice with loud death metal music. Huh, looks like my resentment towards her hasn't worn off. At least she's in Boston, so I won't have to deal with her here.

I don't even know why I'm pissed off with her really. After all, I was the one who made the decision to end things with Rick. Ok yes, she did guide me in that direction but everything she said made sense and did have some truth behind it. When Rick proposed we were both so young and we had no way to support ourselves. Everything would have fallen apart. I did the right thing in saying no, for both of us.

So while Dee is only partially to blame for the implosion of my life, the thought of having to move back near her sets me on edge. Living in Boston is going to be hell, I just know it.

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** A/N: **So there you have it. The story's moving a little slower than I'd like, but hopefully it'll pick up in the next chapter And no, I don't have any control over it cos my brain won't let me *sigh*.

Please leave any reviews you may have, constructive feedback can only help me improve!

Until next time, AE.


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